


‘til we soothe our souls

by kattyshack



Series: Laissez les bons temps rouler [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Demisexuality, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Insecurity, Introspection, Love at First Sight, Pining, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/pseuds/kattyshack
Summary: This ain’t no damn romance novel, though, and he’s an idiot for thinkin’ like one. One minute he’s gettin’ all moon-eyed over this too-good-for-him girl at a rundown bar, and the next they’re haulin’ ass across Georgia with a horde of fuckin’zombiesat their backs.Talk about your abstinence-only education, Christ.[a collection of rewrites of gutsforgarters’ Let the Good Times Roll, told from daryl’s pov // title by sam cooke]
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Series: Laissez les bons temps rouler [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680757
Comments: 44
Kudos: 163





	1. look just a little too long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gutsforgarters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Let the Good Times Roll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328400) by [gutsforgarters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters). 



> a/n: per the summary, this story concept, events, and (most) dialogue belong to gus. i’m just playing in the sandbox.
> 
> i’ll be rearranging the chapters as i add to this, so that the fic will be in chronological order. i just don’t want to actually write it in chronological order, as i’d much rather write whichever bits strike my fancy at any given time. i may write multiple companion pieces to select chapters, so if i miss something you’d like to see from daryl’s pov, it’s never too late to drop a line!

**_Let the Good Times Roll_ companion: chapter 2, part 1**

* * *

This’s gotta be a joke, right?

Daryl doesn’t usually find most jokes funny, on account of the fact he spends most of his time with his brother, and Merle’s just fuckin’ annoying most’a the time, so, yeah, the girl from the gas station showin’ up at the roadhouse must be a _fucking joke_.

Merle sure thinks it’s funny, anyway.

But he ain’t the first to spot her. His back’s to the door, so it’s Daryl who gets an eyeful well before his brother knows what’s what.

And — shit. Just. _Shit._

She looks real pretty. Daryl’s grip tightens around his lukewarm beer, and he can’t tell if it’s the glass or his palms that’re sweatin’ more.

He thought she was real pretty earlier, too, which was part of the whole damn problem to start. How that honey-colored hair frizzed out from the heat around her head like a halo, the freckles on her sunburnt knees spanned out like constellations all the way up her thighs before a couple of ‘em disappeared into her cutoffs.

Daryl’d been the first to notice her that time, too. Merle would’ve honed in on her sooner or later — pretty girl an’ all — but he’d gone eagle-eyed soon as Daryl’s ears went hot and he ducked his head to fiddle with the gas pump. He’d cast a couple furtive looks her way and, well, Merle’d taken it from there.

Doesn’t even know why he noticed her the first time ‘round. Merle might try to chat up anything with legs half as nice as this girl’s, but Daryl’d never been the type.

But this girl — whatever her name is, she’d never answered Merle when he asked — she’d been all sun-kissed and kinda sad-lookin’, even when her big doe eyes went wary at the sight of his truck pullin’ up to the pump next to her.

She’d had her guard up, but she still looked like sunshine, and — fuck him. Christ. He don’t goddamn know.

Daryl takes a long draw of beer, just to keep his hands busy, maybe choke down the nerves that’d jumped in his throat when she’d walked in, with that floaty blue skirt flutterin’ around her knees.

That’s a nice color on her.

Ah, fuck. What the hell’s the matter with him? One look at this girl and he doesn’t even know what’s goin’ on in his own head anymore.

Ain’t gonna say nothin’ about it, about _her_ , ‘cause he don’t want Merle startin’ in on her again. Doesn’t want Merle startin’ in on him again, either, matter of fact. Old bastard had a real good fuckin’ time at Daryl’s expense earlier that afternoon, crowin’ on and on about how his baby brother’s got a _crush_.

What the hell ever. Daryl ain’t even said two words to the girl; never expected to so much as see her around again, so Merle can fuck right off with that shit.

So what if he felt like he’d got sucker-punched straight to the gut the first time he clapped eyes on her? Or now, when it’s like he’d been hit upside the head with a bottle? Daryl knows how that shit feels for real, and it’s the best comparison he can make, but that don’t mean he’s got a _crush_. Ain’t never had no goddamn crush before, and he don’t even know this girl’s name, anyhow.

Don’t mean nothin’. Maybe them cold cuts he’d had on his sandwich for lunch went bad or somethin’. Fuck outta here about his _feelings_ , alright, he’d rather this tug in his gut be indigestion. Make more damn sense, that’s for sure.

Something must show on his face, or Merle’s just lookin’ around the roadhouse for a decent lay, ‘cause all a sudden his brother’s grinnin’ like he just hit his high.

“Lookee there!” He hoots some, gestures with his glass. “Ya li’l girlfriend must know how to have a good time, after all.” He fixes Daryl with a stern look. “You gonna man up this time ‘round, or ‘m I gonna hafta do all the work for you? ‘Cause you could getcha’self some gourmet pussy by the looks a’her, yessir.”

Daryl scowls even as his stomach flips. _That’s_ new. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t be shy, now, Darylina. The li’l miss can’t hear ya,” Merle points out, like Daryl just wants him to shut the hell up for show or somethin’. “You can tell ol’ Merle all ‘bout how bad you wanna wreck that pussy. Shoot,” he guffaws, “I can tell jus’ lookin’ at you you’re sweet on her skinny ass.”

Here they fuckin’ go. Daryl thought he’d heard the end of this by now, but go figure Merle gets more ammo handed to him soon’s he was windin’ down. Not like either of ‘em’s ever been much for _luck_ , but Daryl’s pretty sure he still gets the shit end of the stick there.

He just scowls some more, which is absolutely a mistake, ‘cause then Merle shrugs, takes a gulp of beer, and wolf-whistles clear across the bar.

“Well, if it ain’t Sugar Tits Junior! Big sis finally cut them apron strings loose or what?”

Oh, for _fuck’s_ _sake_.

Daryl casts her one more look, right as she’s turning around, and sticks his thumbnail in his mouth and pretends he hasn’t been lookin’ at her for the better part of five minutes. Which ain’t all that long, actually, but it probably would’ve seemed so if she’d caught him staring.

She looks about ready to storm right outta there, but Merle’s not havin’ that. “Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart. I jus’ wanted to apologize for earlier. You caught me in a shit mood, sugar. Swear I’m usually a real nice guy.”

Daryl huffs. Ain’t nobody’d call Merle _nice_ , although, yeah, he usually ain’t as much of an asshole as he was earlier. Not like he’d ever actually apologize for somethin’ like that, but somehow Merle manages to win most women over. He must figure an apology’s the way to go with this girl, though she don’t seem too keen on buyin’ it.

Her friend’s a different story, though. Steps right on up to their table, bold as brass, and introduces herself.

“Hiya. Are you friends of Beth’s? I’m Georgia.”

 _Beth._ So that’s her name, then, Daryl notes; he glances at her, then quickly away before she catches him at it. Pretty, kinda old-fashioned. Suits her.

Somehow, knowing this calms him down for a goddamn second, before Merle starts in on him again. Asshole’s already chattin’ up a storm with Beth’s friend — she seems more inclined to accept his flirtation than Beth is, anyway — and tryna get Daryl involved in his shit.

“— this here’s my baby brother Daryl. He’s a real ornery sumbitch, but he’s sweet as sugar underneath it all. Ain’t that right, boy?”

“Fuck off,” Daryl mutters, so lowly it ain’t likely anyone can hear him over the jukebox. But, swear to god, he thinks Beth almost smiles.

Ain’t doin’ much of that, though, when her friend accepts Merle’s invitation to sit awhile. Beth looks like she’d rather down a tank of gasoline, but she takes the seat next to Daryl, anyhow. Promptly scoots, too, so she’s not so close.

Daryl snorts, ‘cause it’s kinda funny even as it kinda pisses him off. What’s she think, he’s gonna try to cop a feel or some shit like that?

Nah. She’s real pretty, but he can’t so much as look her square in the eye; forget about touchin’ her. He wouldn’t do that shit, neither, ‘less she wanted him to. Probably’d have to put his hands on her her damn self, otherwise he couldn’t be sure that she _did_ want it.

He sneaks another glance when Merle asks ‘em to have a drink and Beth says she doesn’t. ‘Course she doesn’t, he thinks. Just look at her. Girl ain’t ever done a thing wrong in her life, and Daryl’s willing to bet that buck he took down earlier that she ain’t twenty-one.

He feels it when she looks at him, like she’s trying to meet his eye ‘cause she felt ‘em on her, but he pretends he’s too immersed in his near-empty glass to notice. Just gotta hope _she_ doesn’t notice the glaring red tips of his ears.

Merle fucks off to the bar, and Daryl’s stuck with Beth on one side and her friend on the other, and, Christ, her friend’s annoyin’. Daryl doesn’t recall her name. He thinks she said it, but he’d been a little too caught up learnin’ Beth’s, ‘cause he’d been wondering after it for the better part of the day.

Not like Daryl can judge Beth too harsh for the company she keeps or nothin’, ‘cause, again, he’s got Merle in tow. Daryl doesn’t have much say in the matter — that’s his brother, after all, he’s stuck with ‘im, but then again that just makes Daryl feel more responsible for the nasty shit Merle’s always sayin’.

Neither Beth nor her friend seem like the type to talk that way. They’re tryna make conversation, on about how nice the town is or some shit like that. He ain’t got nothin’ to say about it — place seems nice as any other, boring, maybe, but you could make a nice life here. Beth seems to think so, too, but her friend’s got some _thoughts_ on that.

“Beth’s gotta think that way, on account of she’s pretty much stuck here for life. Someone’s gotta take over her daddy’s farm, an’ I don’t think her brother or sister are real inclined to do it. Gonna marry some local boy an’ pop out a couple’a babies, aren’t you, Bethy?”

Jesus, is she for real? Daryl frowns. He knows what it’s like to be raised in a place the complete opposite of this, and it ain’t exactly fuckin’ easy street, alright? If somebody wants to _pop out a couple’a babies_ , they oughta do it in a town like this one.

Ain’t his place to say so, though. Daryl don’t think Beth’d appreciate it if he snapped at her friend, anyhow, even if it was to defend her. ‘Cause maybe she don’t want the shit her friend thinks she does — Daryl knows that feeling, ‘cause Merle don’t ever know shit about what _he_ wants, no matter what he says otherwise — but it’s not somethin’ you hash out at the bar.

He chances another look at Beth. Can’t really help himself. Her friend said somethin’ about her daddy’s farm and, yeah, that sounds about right. The line of muscle that flexes in Beth’s bicep, and that tan line, too, speaks to long days spent in cornfields, haulin’ hay bales and patchin’ up barn roofs.

He follows that flex all the way down to her fist, clenched tight in her lap, thumb tapping restlessly in the folds of that pretty skirt. Doesn’t even seem like she notices it, like it’s a nervous tic she’s too wound-up to acknowledge.

Before she can pop a blood vessel or anythin’, Merle’s back and pissin’ off half the table all over again.

“Know you said you don’t drink, li’l miss,” he says, as he pushes a full glass towards her. “But I got you one anyways, jus’ in case you changed your mind.”

Beth goes thin-lipped. She wraps her hands around the glass, but only so she can push it back towards him. “Thanks, but I’m good. You can have it.”

Daryl almost laughs. This girl’s got some nerve, don’t she? He kinda likes that.

“Now, honey, I spent my hard-earned cash on that there beer —”

Daryl _does_ laugh at that, huffs it out through his nose. Merle ain’t “hard-earned” nothin’ but his frequent black eye and the couple times he’s got his nose busted.

“— an’ it’d be a real damn shame if it went to waste.”

“Yeah,” Beth agrees, but shoves the beer a little farther away like she really _doesn’t_ , “but it won’t be a waste if _you_ drink it.”

“Girl —”

“Fuck’s sake.” What are they gonna do, play hot potato with the fuckin’ thing? Daryl’s not about to listen to his brother go off on this girl again, neither, or else he really is gonna have to kick his ass. So he plucks the glass from Beth’s grip, careful not to touch her ‘cause he doesn’t want to have a damn heart attack, and sets it next to his. “Jus’ gimme the damn thing. Goddamn pain in the ass.”

That last part’s meant for Merle but, yeah, Beth’s a kinda pain in the ass, too, tell the truth. It’s just that Daryl doesn’t mind so much, when it’s comin’ from her.

‘Specially now, ‘cause she’s looking at him straight-on. Sure, it makes him feel like he’s gonna toss up his fuckin’ heart, still-beating and all, but it’s good to know she’s willing to make eye contact without telling him to go to hell or something.

Her cheeks are pink, and flare brighter when she realizes they’re staring at each other. She looks away quick after that, and Daryl goes back to his beer, too. Feels his own skin prickle with heat and… somethin’ else. Not sure what, and even if he _was_ , like hell’d he be about to put a name to it.

“ _Shiiit_ , there he goes again,” Merle drawls through his smirk. Nudges Beth’s friend in the side. “This here’s the second time in a row Daryl’s jumped to the li’l miss’s rescue. Ain’t he a regular Prince fuckin’ Charming?”

“Huh. Really? That’s sweet.”

Daryl snorts. He takes another draw of beer just so he doesn’t gotta say anything about that — he ain’t _sweet_ , but he could be, to Beth, if she wanted, and — fuck. _Fuck_ , he don’t need to be sayin’ that shit. Doesn’t have the words to, even if he wanted.

So he gulps down his beer and tries not to feel Beth’s gaze on him again. He _can_ feel it, though, just like she’s runnin’ those soft-lookin’ hands all over him, and it’s making him think all stupid and dangerous. Like what if he _was_ sweet to her, what if he could get her alone, so she really could get her hands on him and he could find out where her farmwork-worn calluses are, and —

Her friend’s phone rings. _Christ._ Probably a good thing, Daryl thinks, and tries to chase that dry feeling in his throat with another long draw of beer.

There’s some bickering back and forth whether she should answer it — it’s _Gordon_ , and Daryl don’t know who the fuck that is, nor does he care, he only files the name away ‘cause Beth said it — but she _does_ answer, and then —

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Her friend’s already hopping outta her seat. “Just gimme one second.”

“But —”

Too late. Beth must know it, ‘cause she props her elbows on the table and rubs at her temples like she’s got a headache comin’ on. Daryl’s fingers twitch, but he ain’t stupid enough to try an’ touch her.

“The fuck’s Gordon?” Merle wants to know.

“Georgia’s good-for-nothin’ cheatin’ ex-boyfriend.”

Georgia. Alright, so that’s her annoying friend’s name. Daryl files that away, too. Doesn’t goddamn know when he’s ever gonna need to know it, but… Whatever. Beth’s got a way about her that makes him want to pay attention, he guesses, and chances are it’s not just ‘cause she looks all pretty sittin’ next to him.

“Damn.” Merle whistles between his teeth. “She lookin’ for a rebound?”

“Go ask her,” Beth snaps.

Merle grins, drains his beer. “Think I just might.” He abandons his seat, tosses them a wink. “Y’all keep it PG-13 while I’m gone, now.”

Beth makes a little whimpering sound behind her hands. Daryl flips his brother off and goes back to his beer. Tries not to think about the noise she just made and how he could make her do that again. Probably wouldn’t be all that PG-13, but since when does Daryl take his brother’s dumbass advice, anyway?

Not like he’s got a shot with this girl, so he doesn’t know why he’s bothering thinkin’ about it like he is.

And now he’s alone with her — alone as you can be in a crowded bar, anyhow — and, much as the thought appealed to him a couple minutes ago, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do with it now.

Beth’s not faring much better, far as he can tell. Her leg starts bouncing. They’re not touching, but Daryl can feel it, anyway.

Girl looks about as pissed as he feels. He wonders if she goes through shit like this with her friends all the time, or even half as much as he goes through it with Merle. Kinda nice not to have to deal with it on his own for a change, even if Beth won’t look at him longer than a second. Least that gives him a little more time to look at _her_.

Lookin’ at her so much, ‘course he catches it when she starts lookin’ back. He really can feel it like she’s touching him, like it’s her fingertips instead of her eyes tracing the line of his throat, his arm, the ridges of his knuckles. His nerves spark up like firecrackers when she does that. Wonders what it’d feel like if she touched him for real.

She doesn’t, though. Doesn’t even say a word about it, and it’s not like Daryl expected her to, but there’s still a twinge of disappointment in his gut when the first thing she says to him is —

“D’you think they left together?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t _have_ an answer, and after a minute that's what he tells her. “Dunno. What’s it matter to you, anyways?”

Her mouth twists. And, yeah, he don’t gotta worry after Merle — asshole can take care of himself just fine — but she must have a few concerns herself.

“Just wonderin’ if I should call the police or not.”

Yeah. So he was right, but her tone of voice puts his teeth on edge all the same. “Merle ain’t no rapist. He’ll only fuck that mouthy li’l friend’a yours if she wants him to.”

And that’s the truth, Merle ain’t ever forced a woman — ain’t ever hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it — but Daryl doesn’t even know if he’s talking about Merle right now. Not just. ‘Cause _he_ ain’t like that, neither, and Beth’s mouthy as all fuckin’ get-out, too, and he’ll fuck her if she wants him to.

Jesus. Jesus _Christ_ , when did he start thinkin’ like this?

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Beth bites back, snapping him outta it but good. “She ain’t in her right mind. She’s outta her head over her stupid boyfriend, and she’ll do just about anythin’ to spite him.”

Daryl wonders if Beth’s got a boyfriend, too, or an ex she’s just as pissed at. Doesn’t know why it matters.

“You’re so worried,” he says, jerking his chin at the phone in her hand, “why don’t you just fuckin’ text her?’

Beth blinks, like she’s surprised. Like she forgot. For Daryl’s part, he’d been too busy lookin’ at her to think of much else; he wonders if she had the same problem.

Now, she clicks through her phone, but before she can type anything, it buzzes in her hand. The pale white glow of the screen lights up her face, which goes and crumples in half a second.

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“What?” _Fuck._ Fuck, why’s he keep tryna talk to this girl? He’s gonna mess this shit up, he just _knows_ he is.

Beth turns the screen towards him. He squints to read the message — _Gordon came to get me. Srry!_

Ah. He frowns. Shit.

“She took him back. She took that goddamn good-for-nothin’ two-timer back,” Beth says, like she can’t rightly believe it, “an’ now I don’t have a ride home.”

Daryl shifts. Dammit. Does this mean he’s responsible for now? Not like he’d _mind_ , actually, it’s just…

“Ain’t there somebody you can call?” he asks. “How ‘bout that loudmouth sister’a yours?”

Beth seems to think about that, rolls the thought over in her head. Doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, and Daryl’s not all that surprised. Her sister was the overprotective type, that much was made clear earlier, and she’d probably come in here spittin’ fire if she knew the kinda company Beth was keepin’ tonight, whether it was her choice or not.

She makes a choice now, though. Looks him right in the eye and says, “Can you give me a ride?”

“What?” _No_ , Daryl can’t fuckin’ be alone with this girl, is she fuckin’ nuts? “Hell nah.”

“C’mon, why not? I got cash. I’ll pay you.”

“I ain’t runnin’ a fuckin’ taxi service.” Ain’t lookin’ to run them off the road over a heart attack ‘cause he gets a good, unobstructed taste of the sweet smell of her hair, either.

She hasn’t stopped looking at him. She clutches her fingers together like she’s prayin’. “C’mon. It’s what Jesus would do.”

“Ain’t religious, neither.”

Her lip trembles. Fuck fuck fucking _fuck_ , he _cannot_ make this girl cry, but her eyes are big and bright like she’s about to start.

Mother _fucker_.

Daryl screws his own eyes shut, breathes hard and even through his nose for a second. Familiarizes himself with the sweet smell of her before they’re cooped up together. Vanilla, he’s pretty sure that’s what it is. Vanilla and the good kind of sunscreen. He remembers the sunburn on her thighs, the freckles scattered up her legs. The good kind of sunscreen, yeah, but she only bothers with somethin’ like SPF 30, seems like.

He opens his eyes. Hers are so fuckin’ bright.

He swallows, asks her, “You even trust me enough to get in a car alone with me?”

She _can_ , but he needs to know that she _does_.

Beth nods. “Guess I do. C’mon,” she wheedles, sweet as sugar, “please?”

Shit. Like he’s gonna be able to say no to _that_. Pretty sure he was done for soon’s she asked him the first time, but that _please_ don’t leave a word to spare for further argument.

He shoves out of his seat, digs for his keys, ‘cause —

Fine. Fuckin’ _fine_. He’ll give her a ride home. Maybe even work up the nerve to talk to her, or…

Christ, or _what_? If Daryl really thinks he’s gonna manage to, what, ask for her fucking number or somethin’, then he’s helluva lot more of an optimist than he ever even wanted to be — ‘cause he’s a goddamn idiot if he really, honestly thinks he’s got a shot in hell with this girl.

He doesn’t, and his stupid ass’d do well to remember that.

Even now, even when she’s smiling at him and hopping outta her stool. Doesn’t mean she likes him or nothin’; girl’s just polite. Gotta sharp tongue and a smart mouth, but she’d minded her sweet southern manners with Merle better than anybody else’d ever bothered to so much as try. He didn’t deserve it and she probably didn’t even notice she was doin’ it, but Daryl could tell this girl ain’t got a mean bone in her body.

He ain’t used to that. Likes it, though.

Likes her smile, too, but he ducks his head before he can look at it too long. Probably ain’t no better for him than lookin’ straight at the sun, but god damn it if it don’t make him feel warm.

Daryl tries to stamp down that feeling. It’s nice and it’s _warm_ and he thinks he might’ve been lookin’ for it, but just ‘cause it’s good for him don’t mean it’d be any good for her. She could do better.

Hell — he loops his fingers through his car keys, glances up at her again, makes sure she’s ready to head out — the fuckin’ sky could fall and he could be the last goddamn man on earth, and even still he thinks Beth shouldn’t waste her time with the likes of him.


	2. a damn fool thing

**_Let the Good Times Roll_ companion: chapter 5**

* * *

He shouldn’t have called her a bitch. Knew it soon’s he snapped it at her, but he’d already spit the words out and he couldn’t take ‘em back.

Daryl’s not much for regret, and he’s never apologized for shit in all his life, but the way Beth looked at him after that…

Fuck. Just. Fuck him, he fuckin’ sucks.

He made her _cry_. Christ, that was like a sucker punch straight to the gut, and he goddamn deserved it. Kinda wishes she would’ve hit him for real; woulda stung less than seein’ her pretty blue eyes go red and watery like they did, and all ‘cause he couldn’t keep his nasty mouth shut and leave her be.

But he’s pissed, alright. Don’t even know that he can keep this girl safe, and he’s _gotta_ , ‘cause it’s his goddamn fault she’s stuck relying on him in the first place.

He blamed it on her, ‘cause she wanted to go after her friend, but hadn’t Daryl done the same thing? Turned right the fuck around to go back for Merle at the roadhouse soon’s this shit started. What’d he expect — that Beth wouldn’t wanna go lookin’ for her folks, too?

Nah. He’s known her for, what, two days? And already he knows she ain’t ever gonna leave nobody behind.

(Maybe that’s a good thing for Daryl, but he don’t need to be thinkin’ that shit right now, so he leaves it at _maybe_ and locks the rest of it up tight.)

He can’t blame her for doin’ the same damn fool thing he’d done to start with.

And, yeah, so _she_ came onto _him_ when he was drivin’ her home from the bar, but he didn’t have to pull the fuck over, did he, just ‘cause he wanted to get under her skirt.

Never wanted that shit before, though. Maybe that’s what did it. ‘Cause he never looked at nobody, and then he met this girl at a fuckin’ gas station pump of all places, and he couldn’t help lookin’ at her twice. Fair few times more’n that.

This ain’t no damn romance novel, though, and he’s an idiot for thinkin’ like one. One minute he’s gettin’ all moon-eyed over this too-good-for-him girl at a rundown bar, and the next they’re haulin’ ass across Georgia with a horde of fuckin’ _zombies_ at their backs.

Talk about your abstinence-only education, Christ.

Daryl doesn’t know what the hell to do. He’s not used to that, but it took Beth about ten seconds to get in his head and even if they weren’t at this end-of-the-world bullshit together, he was never gonna shake her. No use lyin’ to himself about that.

Kinda pisses him off even more, though, because what the fuck even _is this_ , so he tries to keep himself busy so he won’t have to think about it.

He’d dragged a spare mattress downstairs for her — a clean one with clean sheets, ain’t nobody died on this one, far as he knows — but he don’t say a word about it. He’s _sorry_ , but he’s not about to say so.

He’s twitchy and agitated and all he can do is pace, back and forth, on alert like a watchdog while Merle snores on the couch and Beth tracks his steps with watchful, red-rimmed eyes.

God damn it, she’s gotta stop looking at him with them eyes he made fuckin’ cry.

She’s watching him, all soft-like, and it makes his skin itch. He’s this close to fucking off into the kitchen just to get away from her, ‘cause it’s the next best thing to crawling outta his own skin and he _can’t do that_ , so —

But then. Then, she wants him to lay down with her.

She wants him to _rest_.

Like she actually, seriously gives a shit about him.

That ain’t right. So Daryl crouches down next to her, eyeballs her like he doesn’t quite understand her — and he _doesn’t_ — and asks, “Hell’s it matter to you?”

Beth shrugs, nuzzles her face into her own arm like she just needs to be touched. Daryl’s hand twitches, ‘cause he wants to touch her. He could do that for her, if he just —

 _No._ No, he’s an asshole and he doesn’t get to do that.

“You’ve kept me alive so far,” Beth’s saying, like she owes him for that shit. “Don’t figure you can keep doin’ that if you’re dead on your feet.”

Well, she ain’t wrong. Didn’t have to be such a smartass about it, but. Yeah. She ain’t wrong.

She scoots over to make some room, and Daryl just keeps right on lookin’ at her. He doesn’t fuckin’ get this girl, but he wants to, and that’s fucking with him.

Maybe he really could use some sleep.

And maybe he wants to be close to her again, too, ‘cause he’s usually more stubborn than this. But here he is now, settling down on the mattress next to Beth just ‘cause she told him to do it.

He really doesn’t have the goddamn patience to try to figure out what that means.

He faces away from her, ‘cause if he doesn’t he’s gonna get lost in the waves of all that pretty blonde hair and he’s gonna do something stupid, like wrap a hand in it and push it aside so he can kiss her neck, and who the hell says she wants him doin’ anything like that? She let him fuck her once, yeah, but that was _before_ — before they had to make a run for it, before he went and made her cry, and —

Shit.

She’s crying again. Fuck, he does _not_ want her crying again. Feels like somebody shoved their fist straight through his chest, like they got a grip on his heart and it ain’t got room to beat no more, when he hears her breath hitch like that. Like it _hurts_.

He rolls over to look at her, finds her shoulders trembling, small body curled in on itself like somebody’s got a grip on her heart, too.

Jesus, he wants to touch her. Wants to give her _something_.

And she must want that, too, because she’s getting closer to him. Scoots back once, twice, ‘til she’s nestled into the curve of his body. Damn, he’s so much bigger than she is, but she’s got him all kinds’a fucked up, and —

Her hips arch back. He wonders if it’s an accident — knows it ain’t, but he wonders, anyway — but then she does it again. Grinds her ass into his cock and, _fuck_ , he wants her.

Doesn’t think he ever stopped. Doesn’t know what to do with this, either, wanting her. Wonders if he’d know if things were different, if he’d taken her home and the world hadn’t gone to shit. Wonders if she would’ve stayed the night with him, if they would’ve woken up in his bed like this — with her body tight against his and him all hard-up for her again, ‘stead of runnin’ like hell from all the shit that’s goin’ down outside. Would he have known what the hell to do with her then?

Yeah, he _wonders_. Knows the answer to this one, too, but he can’t stop wishin’ he could do better by her.

But if this is good enough — if it’s what she wants, well… He owes her this much, don’t he?

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, as he smooths a hand over her hip and breathes in the sweet, sweaty smell of her hair. _Yeah, asshole, like you got a problem with fingerfucking her ‘til she comes all over your hand. You’re a real goddamn martyr._

Beth’s holding that hand now, dragging it up to her mouth to suck two of his fingers inside, all warm and wet like her cunt had been when she’d let him finger her in the bed of his truck. _Christ._ He bites back a groan, forces his hips still so he don’t thrust his cock up on her ass.

He groans, anyway, massages her jaw while she laps at him. He’s panting into her ear, shallow breaths of nothing, and he wants to make it something, wants to tell her —

_I wanna fuck you._

_Wanna make you feel good._

_Wanna fix this, c’mon, let me, Beth._

_Beth…_

She guides his hand down, ‘til he can shove past her waistband. He tries to keep it slow, but he — he fuckin’ _can’t_ , he wants to be good for her, Jesus, he’s a no-good dirty fucking redneck who bit her head off just ‘cause she’s sad and he’s pissed and he _doesn’t wanna_ do that shit to her. He wants her to look at him the way she did the first time he made her come, all dreamy-eyed and smilin’.

Go figure the one thing he’s ever done right in his godforsaken fuckin’ life, and soon as he did it the world goddamn ended.

But he can do this right again. He _can_.

He does. Must, because Beth shakes when he finds her clit, when he presses down with damp fingertips. It’s a good shake, he thinks; she _likes_ what he’s doin’ to her.

Fuck. _Fuck_ , that makes his hips go off on their own, and he’s humping her ass like he ain’t no better than some stray mutt. And, yeah, ain’t that the truth?

Doesn’t matter. He’s nothin’, but he can give her anything she wants.

He wants to roll her over, get her underneath him or just lookin’ at him, even. He hadn’t gotten to see her face the last time, the _first_ time — hadn’t gotten to see her eyes go dark, cheeks pink, mouth slack. He got to watch her after, got to track the twitch of her facial muscles when he fingered her ‘til she got off, but it’d been dark and it hadn’t taken all that long.

He wants to look at her when they’ve got _time_.

But he sure as shit don’t deserve to see any of that now, anyway. Nah, he’ll get her off if that’s what she wants, but he ain’t gonna make her look at him while he does it.

He rubs at her clit, pumps his fingers inside of her as he ruts his cock behind her. She’s riding his hand and whimpering, tightening up around his fingers, making his dick jerk ‘cause he wants to feel that stranglehold around his cock.

Wants to hear Beth sigh his name when she gets off, too, but her come’s on his hand and she hadn’t said a word.

But she wanted him to give this to her. _Him._ And that’s gotta be enough.

He moves his hand to her stomach when she rolls onto her back, feels her abdomen fluttering on the aftershocks of her orgasm. She’s panting, cheeks a pretty shade of pink he’s never thought about before.

“Do you wanna —” Beth starts to say, but Daryl knows where she’s going and stops her.

“Don’t got a rubber.”

He’s lucky enough he had the one so they could fuck the first time. Merle’s always sticking one in his wallet, always laughin’, saying some shit about how _You never know, little brother_ , even though Daryl _does_ know. Ends up tossing the damn things ‘cause they sit around ‘til they’re expired.

Now here Beth is, and he wishes none of ‘em had gone bad.

But then she’s shaking her head. Saying, “It doesn’t matter,” and getting closer to him, body practically molding to his, and his stomach clenches and his dick throbs and and _and_ —

Girl’s gonna let him fuck her raw, and she says it _doesn’t_ _matter_.

Well. He thinks about the world outside, and then he thinks that maybe she’s right.

She’s touching him, hand on his arm, mouth tickling his chin when she talks. “It’ll be okay, right? You don’t got any —”

“Nah.”

“So it’ll be fine.” Damn it, she’s already taking off her underwear, and Daryl’s brain’s gone and short-circuited.

“Damn stupid,” he manages to mutter, but what good is saying so when he’s already getting on top of her?

Because that’s just what he does, right away, covers her body with his like he wanted to before. Doesn’t deserve what he wants, but _Beth_ wants it, so he’ll give it to her. And he’s gone half-braindead here, so he’ll take a little bit, too.

He pushes up her shirt, her bra, to feel her up, to suck on her tits. That’s s’posed to feel good, ain’t it? He wants her to feel good. Wants to _make her_ feel good.

He made her cry today. Now he just wants to lap at her tits like that’s gonna make up for all the shit she’s gone through ‘cause of him.

Beth’s breath is hitching again, but there’s no tears this time, no sobs, so he must be doin’ alright. He takes one hand off her chest, though, ‘cause he can do better than _alright_ , so he runs his fingers up her slit. Maybe he could make her come again without fucking her, make her too tired or oversensitve, because he shouldn’t _get_ to fuck her, shouldn’t be allowed to bury his dick into her warm wet pussy and feel good ‘cause he’s with her.

But she’s going for his belt. She wants it, and he’s not goddamn man enough to tell her no when he wants it, too.

Fucking hell, what’s this girl gone and done to him?

Daryl hastens to get his belt unclipped, zip down. Struggles and swears, he wants in her _now_ , right now, wants her pussy clenched around his cock and sucking every last little bit of _good_ he’s got to give her —

Jesus, she feels good all on her own, he thinks as he sinks into her, slow, choking down another groan when he feels how hot she is, wet and sticky and humid and _why_ is she letting him have this, why is she giving this to him, what the hell’s he ever done to deserve that sharp gasp that breaks past her pretty mouth?

Why the goddamn _hell_ is she so pretty? Why’s that fucking him up so bad? 

The pace he sets borders on erratic, definitely rhythmless, but she likes it. She _moans_ , and he curves a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, meanwhile he nearly bites off his own tongue to shut himself up. Last thing he needs is Merle wakin’ up while he’s trying to fuck Beth.

Last thing he needs is for this to stop before he’s ready to let her go.

( _Never._ He ain’t never gonna be ready for that shit, he fuckin’ _knows it_.)

He works his dick inside her, mattress pulping beneath them. She goes for his shirt buttons like she had for his jeans, and — no. No, he can’t let her do that, can’t let her see what’s on his back, can’t feel her fingertips on his bare skin, he’s fucked up and she doesn’t have to know —

He snatches her wrist with his free hand, pins it to the mattress as he fucks into her harder. And — _shit_ , shit, he shouldn’t be holding her down like this, but then —

 _It’s okay._ Beth shapes the words against his palm, soft lips and hot breath and another sharp sigh, like she _wants_ this, like she wants it rough and she wants it from him.

Goddammit, he’s so. He’s so fucking _gone_ , what the _fuck_.

He tucks his face in her neck, inhales in time with his thrusts. She’s so fucking sweet and he’s messin’ her up, shouldn’t have his damn hands on her, but it’s all he’s been able to think about since she ran that smart mouth’a hers, since she showed up to that dump of a bar lookin’ all pretty, somethin’ about her got him and he _wants her_ , even though he shouldn’t get to have her.

His fingers flex around her wrist and he licks at her neck the way he did her tit, nips and sucks at it. Wonders if he’s gonna leave a mark; hopes that he does. His nose is clogged up with the salty tang of her sweat. He wants to taste that all over her, wants to get on his knees and tell her he’s sorry, wants to bury his face between her thighs and _show_ her.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. So he snaps his hips and fucks her deeper, restless and desperate, his own chest hitching now. His thumb rubs across her wrist, tracking her pulse. His fingers trace her mouth, and he lets her moans sink deep into his calluses and soothe away their rough edges.

She could be so good for him. 

When Beth’s orgasm ripples through her, it all but yanks Daryl’s out by its heels. Almost doesn’t have the foresight to pull outta her, feels so damn good, but sense kicks in long enough for him to jerk himself off instead of potentially knocking her up.

His eyes catch hers, just for a second, and she’s — she’s watching him jerk his cock and, _fuck_ , fuck, he comes on her leg. Christ, he’s a dumbass and he shoulda _asked_ first, but her cunt had been gripping him like her hand around his arm and she’d been so fucking _sweet_ and _hot_ and he can’t take that shit, alright?

He rolls off her, panting, still wishing he could say something to her instead of just hackin’ up a lung. He wants to say her name, tell her how fuckin’ good it was, wants to ask if he can get his tongue up her cunt…

No. Shit. _No_ , he can’t do that. Ain’t good enough for her to just do whatever he damn pleases with her.

So he cleans her up, wipes her down with a pillowcase. Tries not to get distracted by her flushed skin or the bright blue rims of her eyes. Zips himself the fuck up and turns to his side, facing away from her before he does every stupid thing that’s on his mind, every little thing she hadn’t asked for and he doesn’t deserve to give to her.

Because, more than he wanted to watch her come, now he just… Daryl squeezes his eyes shut, tries to count down his breathing. He wants to hold her. Wrap his arm around her waist, hand on her hip, hold her tight to his chest and bury his face in her hair.

But he don’t deserve to do that shit. He was a nasty son of a bitch to her earlier, he doesn’t get to fuckin’ touch her like that after he talked to her like he did. He won’t let himself.

She wants to use him, fine. He can give her that much, he can let loose all her grief and her pent-up anxiety, but he don’t get to comfort himself in her warm body and the sweet smell of her hair. He’s a fucking asshole and he’s not allowed to feel better about that.

But he can feel her gaze on the back of his head, and he just… _wonders_ , some more, if she wants him to — to —

He wants to kiss her. Would she let him?

‘Cause he wants her to smile so he can taste the shape of it, so he knows she’s alright, even if that’s only gonna last for right now. Seems like _right now_ ’s all the time they got, or all the time that matters, anyway.

Beth rolls over, too. He can feel the dip of the mattress even when it’s just her slight body, because he’s tuned into every move she makes now.

Maybe that’ll help him to keep her safe. Maybe Daryl’ll be good for fuckin’ _something_ , and he’ll keep her alive. Maybe wanting her this bad’s gonna amount to something more useful than getting his undeserving dick wet when he makes her come.

Fucking _lord_ , maybe one’a these days he’ll actually be able to say something to her that’ll make her smile. And maybe then everything won’t feel like it’s gone completely to shit.

 _Maybe, maybe, fuckin’_ maybe _…_

It’s a damn fool thing, gettin’ caught up in this girl like he is. But he _is_ , and it’s too goddamn late for him to stop now, ain’t it?


End file.
